A Nice Attempt At Making Him Jealous
by hannahncakes
Summary: After Buffy learns that the man she loved has been brought back from the dead and has decided not to visit her she spins into a distructive cyle that leads her into trouble.
1. I Hope It Hurts

A nice attempt at making him jealous

_A/N: I spend the majority of my life imagining how the reunion between Buffy and Spike would have been when he went back to her. I have never been able to understand why he would stay away when the love each other so much (clearly) but for the purpose of this story I'm going to assume that Spike had undergone a personality transplant and never got it contact. I don't imagine Buffy would react too well…_

"Buffy. Slow. Down." Willow whispers pointedly as she grabs my arm to stop me bringing my drink to my lips. I shake her off quickly and give her a look that I hope says _'back off this is my decision'_. I drain the whisky from the bottom of my glass: she sighs and I shudder. Whether my reaction is to the whisky or the disapproval painted all over my friend's face I'm not sure. I should really be used to both by now. Willow's disappointed in me, disapproved of how I am living my life. _I'm coping_ I told her _that's all I can do right now._

I lean further over the bar to try and attract the attention of the barman before the effects of my last drink wear off. Damn slayer metabolism makes getting wasted very difficult. And expensive. I nod slightly as he moves to pour me another drink. No more conversation is necessary. I've been coming to this bar for a few weeks now. It's dark and dank, the music too loud and the men too ready to try and grope you. The perfect place. The first few times I'd been in the guy had tried chatting to me about the usual: my accent, my taste for strong liquor and why I should 'cheer up it might never happen'. _It already has_ I told him. He soon lost interest in me after that. They all do in the end. No one wants to be with a girl with a load of baggage and I carry the world on my shoulders.

Other men still approach me daily. Strangers. Admirers. They see a pretty young girl and nothing more- I can't remember when that description ever fitted me. As I grab my refill from the sticky bar I'm aware of a group of guys on the other side of the room trying to catch my eye. Let them try. Soon one of them will pluck up the courage and come over to me asking what a pretty girl like me is doing in a place like this, if they can borrow fifty pence to call my mom and tell her I'm not coming home or if it hurt when I fell from heaven. I'll sigh and roll my eyes because I've heard all their lines before but I'll say nothing more. I won't tell them that I'm here mending my broken heart, that I have no mom and no home or that I didn't fall from heaven but was ripped out against my will and forced to live in this cold, dark place. I won't tell them a thing. They don't need to know why I'm here or who I'm trying to forget.

When I found out he was back, that he'd survived, I felt I'd been given my life back. I could hardly stop from exploding when I thought of the moment he'd walk back into my life. I knew that soon he would be holding me tight in his arms and everything would be okay again. Until that moment I spent evening after evening sitting by the phone waiting to hear the voice I thought was gone forever. During the days every blonde man I passed made my heart skip and every English accent in a crowded room made my head snap around. It was never him. Days, weeks, months and now nearly a year has passed and I have given up waiting: given up hoping. I know he's not coming back for me. He can come back from hell or whatever dimension he was sucked to but he can't cross the country to see the girl loved. Well, said he loved. I just have this effect on men. They love me so much they leave.

So I left him too. I left America and any chance of him turning up at my door. I tried to leave him behind me as I came here; came to the country where he was born and where every brash, abrasive voice reminded me of the one Englishman who wasn't here. Good one, Buffy. I wonder if he watches every little blonde woman and wonders if she's me? I doubt it.

"Buf, can we get out of here?" Willow moans, tugging on my arm. I try to smile at her and understand her rush to leave. It's so not her scene here, she'd rather be at home researching whatever big evil the girls are preparing to fight but I need to be here trying to forget my own internal battles. When I thought he'd died, when I thought I'd never see him again, I threw myself head first into the slaying. I'd known there was no point trying to socialise when there was no way I could meet anyone I cared for like I had him. I put everything I had into trying to be the best slayer I could so I still had something in my life to fight for. Now that he's back, though, there seems little point in slaying. I'll still fight the big fights, give the girls the pep talks, sure, but there are so many girls now I don't need to be out every night searching for my place in the world. So I come here to see which guy wants to take me home. They'll never be him and I don't want them to even try. I want them to want me even though I don't want them. I want them to make me forget that the one I love has left me. I want to feel that somehow, somewhere he feels a surge of jealousy that I'm in someone else's arms.

"You go Will I'm gonna stay out a bit longer." I nod. I want to let her know I'll be okay. Every night someone comes out with me in an attempt to calm me down or cheer me up. I'm grateful that they want to support me but they just can't understand how I feel. They want the old Buffy back- want me to be all sunshine and smiles in the face of an apocalypse like I was when I was sixteen. But when I was sixteen the worst thing was some unknown evil whereas now I have to accept that someone knew every part of me, understood me better than I did myself and then rejected me totally. Now the worst is knowing that I'm unloveable and completely forgettable and try as I may I can't vanquish those feelings and go back to being the life of the party.

"You sure you'll be okay?" She asks with concern in her warm eyes.

"Hey, Slayer girl here! I can take anything anyone throws at me." I Smile and try to laugh off her worries. "I'll be okay." I whisper as she pulls me into a hug goodbye. As she squeezes me tightly I wonder if I'll ever be okay again.

As she leaves I order another drink and down it quickly. The whisky reminds me of his kisses and the alcohol numbs my senses. I remember how it felt when I first came out of heaven and nothing felt real and I long for that feeling once more. Now I feel everything. Too much of everything, especially when I think of him, and it threatens to overwhelm me. I long to be able to get through a day without feeling that I'm going to break down at the memory of what I used to have. What I need is a distraction.

I feel a light tap on my shoulder and turn quickly, feeling slightly dizzy as I do as the whisky rushes to my head, to see one of the guys who was checking me out earlier. He's tall, with light brown hair and deep blue eyes. Not bad looking, I suppose, he just looks so nervous at the thought of talking to me. I stare at him blankly for a few moments as he tries to think of something to say.

"Do you want a drink?" He asks quickly, leaning in to make himself heard over the boom of the music.

"Sure." I shrug, who turns down free alcohol? "Double whisky. No ice." I hand him my glass and he eagerly gets it topped up. He reminds me of a puppy- big eyes and eager to please.

"So… What's your name?" He asks politely as we sip our drinks. Polite. Damn. I don't know if I can deal with polite tonight.

"Anne." I answer quickly. It's less complicated and leads to fewer questions that trying to explain away being called Buffy.

"I'm Peter." He announces. _I didn't ask_ I thought wryly. "What brings you here tonight?"

"Work." I state simply and take another slug of my drink. As I do I catch sight of his and feel a bit mean, even for me. "I just moved here from America." I decide to chuck the puppy a bone.

"Wow. America. Where abouts are you from? I went to Florida with mum and dad a few years ago…" He carries on jabbering. I tune him out after a while and nod towards the bar and we go and he buys me another drink. I'm feeling the effects now. My head is spinning and I want to get out of here. I try to focus on what the boy is saying. He really is a boy as well. Can't be more than 20 judging from his manner. I notice he's stopped talking and looking at me expectantly.

"Sorry, what?" I ask him quickly.

"I said: what do you do? For a job, y'know?" He seems slightly offended that I wasn't hanging off his every word. I bet he's used to girls falling at his feet. I giggle slightly. I'll put him back in his place.

"I slay vampires." I tell him. He laughs. I don't.

"Serious?" He's looking at me like I'm crazy now. I shrug it off. I really want to leave now.

"Hey, shall we get out of here?" I ask, tugging at his hand.

"Where do you want go?" He replies looking a little lost. Maybe he thinks I'm going to slay him.

"Do you wanna take me to yours?" I ask trying to sound seductive. I'm aware I probably just sound drunk but I'm not that bothered.

"Hell yes!" He exclaims as his face lights up like a kid a Christmas. I grin. "This is the best night of my life!" He mutters to himself. I shudder. Why break with tradition? Give a guy the best night of his life and then he'll never want to see you again. Or try to kill you. I'm pretty sure that this guy will fall into the first category though. Not that I'd want to see him again.

We step out of the bar and onto the sidewalk and the fresh air and noise of London hits me so fast I feel like I'm going to fall over. I stumble slightly into Peter but he doesn't seem to mind. He's fumbling for something in his pocket.

"Do you smoke?" He asks as he produces a packet from his jacket and offers me one. I pause for a moment.

"Sure." I shrug. Why not? He hands me one and I place it into my mouth cautiously. He lights it for me with shaking hands and as I exhale I fight the need to cough back up what's just gone into my lungs. I watch him smoke and try to narrow my eyes enough to imagine I'm looking at the man I want to take me home tonight. But no angle can change this boy into him. If I had a few more drinks I could pass him off as a Riley look-alike maybe. I laugh out loud at what he would say to me going home with a younger "Captain Cardboard".

"You ok?" Peter looks concerned about me. I suppose I'm not putting across the best picture of mental health with all the insane laughter. Oh jeez, I'm turning into Dru.

"Fine. Just saw something funny." I lie as I grind my cigarette under my boot. It was making me feel rather sick. He seems satisfied with this and he gestures towards a cab parked on the road. This British reserved nature was starting to get on my nerves. "Shall we go then?" I ask him walking forward and grabbing the door.

"Urm… Sure." He mumbles as he quickly scrambles into the cab after my and tells the driver where to take us. Thankfully it's only a short ride as Peter seems to have given up on conversation and just stares at me like he can't believe his luck. He only wants me because he wants my body. I've never had everything a man wanted. Hot but crazy. Sweet but needy. Strong but unattainable. Interesting but distant.

We arrive at Peter's apartment a few minutes later and he guides me up the stairs and opens the door. Little is said because there is nothing left to say- we both know what is going to happen next. Peter asks me if I want a drink and I nod as he apologises for not having any whisky and hands me a beer instead. I find out the vampire was right all along. British beer really is better than the American stuff. We sit on the sofa side by side waiting. I wish he'd just kiss me all ready so we could get this over and done with.

As if reading my mind he lunges across and catches my mouth with his. The shock of this movement makes me slop beer all down my front and I curse at the stain will develop on my favourite top. He apologises clumsily and places the beer on the floor.

"Shall I urm, carry on?" he asks. Jeez well that killed any romance that may have been hiding in this room.

"Sure." I say. That seems to be all I say these days.

Peter kisses me again. His tongue barges into my mouth and awkwardly tries to connect with mine as his hands fumble trying to pull my top off. I remember how his hands used to feel on me. It felt like he traced lines of fire up my body. I used to shiver at his touch and ache to have him inside me. Peter touches me, tracing the same patterns over my now pale skin and I feel an overwhelming nothing. He's pulled my top off and began to suck at my nipples. I fight the desire to laugh. You easily get used to a man have a hundred years of experience and forget that most men move about a woman's body as if blindfolded.

When Peter's struggled to get the remainder of my clothes off he looks down at me and I feel vaguely proud. I can see the desire in his eyes. He sure as hell doesn't love me, might not even like me, but he wants me. For a second I thought of the way he used to look at me. As if I was the only woman in the world and as if he'd never felt this way about someone before. I shake it out of my mind. So many lies. I pull Peter towards me. I wrap my legs around him as he moves inside of me, rocking us backwards and forwards. I'm careful to hold myself back so I don't hurt him. I remember the passion I used to feel. The feeling that if I didn't have him that second I would burst. I've accepted that I'll never feel that again. This is… nice. It feels good. My world is hardly shaking but I've known worse. I try to make the right noises and sound like a normal girl should. He moves faster and faster running his hands through my hair and kissing me deeply. As he comes he shouts my name loudly. He calls me Anne. I lie there for a moment, catching my breath as he holds me. I'm thinking how I can get out of here quickly. I'm thinking of how I can avoid giving Peter my number.

"Was that urm… okay?" He asks nervously.

"Sure. It was great. Really great." I smile at him as best I can. "I'm just going to… y'know… freshen up." I escape his grasp and run to the washroom.

Once inside I bolt the door and lean my head against the cool tiles on the wall. I fight back the tears that have wanted to fall all night. I know I'm never going to get over him and never going to stop comparing every man I meet to him. They never live up to him. Every night I do this. What do I think it will achieve? I don't know but it's sure as hell better than sitting at home crying over a man who doesn't care. Better than stopping my life to wait for a man who's never coming back to me. I splash my face with water and look up into the mirror. I barely recognise myself. I wonder if he would. I wonder if he senses what I'm doing like he used to. I hope he does. And I hope it hurts.

_A/N2: Okay I know this is the bit everyone hates where I basically beg for reviews but please tell me if you liked it or why you hated it. I know it's a very different depiction of Buffy than normal and I would really like to know what you all thought! _


	2. Bloody Angel

A Nice Attempt At Making Him Jealous

The room is noticeably spinning as I get up from my stool to cross to the dance floor. A long day of killing vamps followed by a hard night of drinking is making the walk take longer than I'd expected as I keep knocking into various stools, people, and walls that are getting in my way. It feels weird to be so out of control of my body. After years of practise and perfecting every movement, years of being constantly alert to the slightest change in my surroundings and ready to attack at any moment I now stumble and fall like a drunk in the street. If a vampire attacked me now I wouldn't stand a chance and if Giles could see me now he'd have a fit. Good job he's nowhere near then. He's off training the new girls who _need_ him. Why does no one ever think that _I_ might need them? Or is it just that my needs are considered less important? Either way it majorly sucks.

I reach the centre of the dance floor, finally, and start to sway alone to the music. I know it won't be long until someone starts to dance with me. I'm dressed to impress tonight- tight black halter neck and a short red skirt teamed with some killer boots that makes me feel like a million dollars. I need something to make me feel good about myself tonight after the day I've had. Just when I thought that maybe, in some way, I was getting better, just when I managed to go a few hours without that stabbing pain in my chest that means I'm thinking about him Angel calls. Bloody Angel. Calling up to "check in" and give me all the info on what's going down in L.A. He told me about all the things they'd done. To hear his name casually dropped into conversation without a second thought, to hear all the normal things they're doing together, to hear that he can manage to make it from day to day without breaking down breaks my heart. If this separation isn't bothering him then he must be totally over me. I used to be able to console myself that maybe he wasn't able to get here or that maybe he hadn't been in touch because he was worried I would reject him and so was staying there, thinking of me every day and missing me but these updates from Angel sure put those thoughts out of my head.

I heard him in the background today, talking to some girl called Fred. Bitch. I mean, really, what girl is called Fred? Stupid name for a stupid name for a stupid bitch. I heard him laughing with her and it felt like someone had pulled the ground from under me. I went into free fall. I couldn't catch my breath and I felt as if my legs would give way. I wanted to scream, to hang up and curl up into a ball and cry but instead I breathe deeply and listen to Angel yapping. He's asking about me, about my life and I can tell that he's trying to suss out if anything is going to happen between us. He's still waiting for me to announce- "yay I'm cookies now!" and run off to live happily ever after. Maybe I should tell Angel the truth, tell him that I was cookies long ago but I kept myself warm for someone else- someone who left me in the oven for too long so now I'm all burnt and no one is going to eat me ever. Maybe I should tell Angel that I lied when I said _'he's in my heart'_ and that what I should have said was _'he has my heart'_ but the only problem was I didn't realise until he took it with him and broke it. Maybe I should say all this but I don't. I couldn't face the pained silence and vampire sulking and I certainly couldn't cope with knowing that afterwards Angel would tell him all about it and he'd probably get a good kick out of me being all heart-broken.

So instead I carried on the strained conversation and we swapped stories about who's doing what and how we're all Saving The World- woo, go team us! I mumbled my way through the pleasantries until I could final hang up on him and try to get them both out of my head. I should hate them both for what they've done to me but I don't. I should stand up to Angel and tell him it's not normal to be carrying on like this, it's not healthy. You just don't stay in touch with the one you thought was your epic love- the Romeo to my bloody Juliet. I was young and naive and I thought it would last forever then it went horribly wrong and my heart broke and it should have ended there. Angel shouldn't have the right to drop into my life whenever he wants, to phone me up out of the blue like we're old college buddies who just lost contact for a while and he definitely shouldn't have the right to pry into my love life as if he owns me. And as for him, well, there's a whole bunch of things I should say to him. I should tell him that if the woman you professed to love for years finally realises she loves you and tells you, and you die and she thinks she's going to die too, and you come back and she's waiting and you finally have a chance to be together you should take it before one of you dies again, I should tell him that he's got no right to change his mind after all this time when I final know what I want, I should tell him he is absolutely the most awful kind of monster for hurting me this way but I can't even bring myself to pick up the phone. I can't blame him because there is this nagging doubt at the back of my mind that says he had every right to leave me and that maybe he finally realised all the awful things I'd done, the way I'd used him again and again and never told him how I felt till he was dying. How can I blame him for realising that there are better women out there than me, that I'm too broken to ever be loved?

After this revelation I didn't know what to do with myself for the longest time. I paced up and down trying to sort my head out but the only thing that was clear was I felt the need to go kill things. I spent the day alone as I pounded the sidewalks of London looking for the dark places that vamps hung out around here and taking a lot of pleasure in staking them while they slept. One less evil thing to worry about, right? But soon the novelty wore off and I was sick of being me- of trying to escape a past that wouldn't die (which is one of the many crappy things about having immortal exes) and just wanted to get out of my own head. So here I am many whiskies later and definitely on my way to forgetting some of my problems. Another night, another bar. I feel the need to change it up every few months when it becomes increasingly likely that someone I've slept with will ask me why I haven't called. There are only so many times I can mutter _it's not you, it's me_ before I feel like a complete player but it is me. I've realised I didn't come back broken I was born that way.

"_Oh poor little lost girl. She doesn't fit in anywhere. She's got no one to love."_ His voice bounces around my head in time to the beat of the music. I scream at him to get out and no one notices, it's too loud and they're all too wrapped up in their own lives, too busy dancing and drinking to notice little me going crazy. I never thought I'd go crazy. Die young, alone and possibly never be loved yes but crazy was always something I left up to the vamps. God it's getting late. I need a cab and a drink but maybe not in that order. I turn to go and crash into a man standing too close behind me.

"Hey, Anne." He mutters.

"Mm not Anne." I slur as I try to focus on him.

"Want a drink?" He practically shouts over the music as he thrusts a glass into my hand. "Double whisky, no ice, right?" He grins proudly as I try to steady my vision.

"You're…" I falter. Paul? Percy? Something beginning with a P. Defiantly a P.

"Peter." He offers. Oh jeez Peter. I knew it was a P. Polite Peter. "Drink up." He nods down to my glass and I oblige him with a deep swig. "You never returned my calls Anne. Did you phone break or something?"

"Urm yeah about that I-"

"It doesn't matter." He cuts across me. "I found you now and that's all that matters." He takes my hand and leads me to the chairs across the room. I wish I knew what to say to get away from him. I don't do second dates it's too difficult, they want too much from me. Everyone always wants something. I gulp down more of my drink to steady myself.

"I don't want to sit down." I pout feeling like a child.

"Shh come on, sit down with me." He cooes at me as he takes a seat.

"Don't want to." I manage to mumble.

"Shall we just go back to mine instead?" He asks as he tries to snake an arm around my waist. I shrug him off- something about him is giving me the creeps. Great taste in men, Buffy.

"I really don't think we should-" I stop suddenly. My head is spinning so fast I feel like I'm going to hurl. This isn't normal. "I don't feel well." I moan.

"You've had too much to drink that's all." He puts his arm around me and pulls me close. I try to push him away but I notice my arms are heavy all of a sudden and my legs feel like they won't hold my weight.

"No it's not that… it's…" Suddenly the words are difficult to form and I feel him half carrying, half pulling me forward.

"Too much to drink mate, I'll take her home." I hear him telling someone as I struggle to keep my eyes open. He doesn't know where I live, I think to myself, then it all goes black.

_A/N: I hope you are enjoying this story. To anyone who reads my other story, __**The marrying Type **__don't fret I will be updating it very shortly! & Just a reminder that feedback makes me happy & happy writers write more so please please review. _


	3. Just My Type

A Nice Attempt At Making Him Jealous

_A/N: Sorry about the delay in this part I've been stuck writing essays for university which are much less enjoyable but unfortunately far more needed. Thank you so, so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter I hope you continue to enjoy this part, please let me know!_

It is the silence that first alerts me to the fact that something is wrong. Waking up with a pounding head, aching all over and being unable to move for fear of throwing up is pretty much normal for me but it's usually accompanied by the sound of a stampede of teenage girls running back and forwards in front of my door arguing over whose turn it is to use the shower and then a soft knock on my bedroom door that means Willow is standing outside with a cup of caffeinated goodness to help me kick-start the day. Today, though, I can tell no one is standing outside my door. I try to open my eyes but they feel like they are glued together with sleep so I try to kick my other senses into action and they scream in protest. There is nothing to hear. Not even a bird chirping annoyingly outside to break the, frankly disturbing, silence that surrounds me. As I become slightly more aware of my body I notice it feels like I'm sitting upright which, although not unheard of, is an unusual way for me to sleep. I try to move my arms and at first they feel sluggish and unresponsive but when they finally cooperate I find I can't actually move them because I'm bound by something. Now I'm starting to panic. Before it all just felt a bit weird but waking up in restrains is a bit too kinky even by my standards. It doesn't feel like I've been hit over the head which is always a bonus but something feels definitely off with my entire body.

Finally I manage to force my heavy eyelids open and it takes me a moment to adjust to the dim light and clutter that confronts me. It all looks vaguely familiar, the cramped sofa and table, the collection of beer bottles littered across the floor leading onto a corridor where a dim light illuminates the rest of the apartment. I know that I've been here before but my brain is so swirly I'm finding it hard to make any connections. Plus, I'm more concerned with getting myself free from whatever system of chains are holding me in place before I work out where I'm running from. I struggle against the chains that fall heavily across my arms, legs and twist themselves around the rest of my body but it feels the more I struggle the tighter they pull me in. Something feels wrong here, I feel like normally I would be able to break free from these in a few moments but I feel weak as a kitten like some normal girl being held prisoner and powerless to do anything about it. I feel sick to my stomach at the idea I might not be able to get myself free from this.

"Morning beautiful." I hear a voice whisper in my ear and I jump, I physically jump, when I realise how close someone had got to me without me even being aware of their presence. I spin my head to locate where the noise is coming from and feel dizzy in the process until I fix on his face then everything suddenly becomes clearer. Peter. Memories flash before me of when I was here before and of meeting him last night when this feeling first came over me and of being dragged away in strong arms and everything clicks horribly into place.

"You drugged me!" I spit venomously in his face. I am so angry I want to hurt him in a way I've never wanted to hurt another human before. I want to make him feel the pain and the humiliation that I feel being stuck in a position like this. I've never felt so violated in a way I can't even describe- having all choices, all decisions taken out of my hands and being made to feel ordinary in the worst kind of way. I try to lung at him, throw all my weight forward in an attempt to hit some part of him but instead I only manage to topple the chair over and fall, with it on top of me, onto the hard floor. He laughs loudly as I lie there and wait for him to pick me up.

"Now now young lady that's no way to behave is it?" He gloats as he pulls me upright. "Got to control that temper of yours haven't we? That's the reason I had to do it. You don't understand Anne I never wanted to hurt you, I would never hurt you but I know girls like you need a little persuasion." He grins again and I look away, refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me react. "Oh come on Anne let's not play this game." He sighs, annoyed as I turn my face to the wall. "I'm sure we can reach some kind of arrangement, I can even call you Buffy if you like?" I let out a gasp involuntarily and I can feel him smile at my reaction.

"How do you know my name?" I ask in a low voice. I try to push down the swell of fear that is rising up my body. I refuse to be reduced to some whimpering little girl by a man that under normal circumstances I could knock out with one punch.

"Oh I know everything about you my little Buffy-Anne." I shudder as he says my name. "I made sure of that. When you left and wouldn't answer me you didn't leave me much choice did you? I had to find you, follow you, learn about you. I had to find out what would make you love me like I love you. You realise that's why you're here? I can help you so much if only you'll do as I ask." I feel my skin creep as he strokes me hair. Slimeball.

"You love me so much that you've decided to chain me up in your apartment?" I laugh at him, trying to regain some of my swagger that's been taken by him. "Well let me tell you something you're not the first guy who's tried this little number on me and as of yet the success rate has been zero. Call me a traditionalist but I'm really more of a chocolates and flowers type of girl."

"You don't mention other men in this house. Ever." His voice is lower, dangerous.

"Oh good y'see I was always wondering if I had "a type" and apparently I do: jealous, slightly psychotic and unable to tell whether they want to kill me or kiss me." I glance up and am pleased to see a look of anger passing over his face. "At least Angel and Spike were good looking." I snarl and then promptly feel a sting across my cheek. He slapped me. He actually just slapped me. I stare at him in shock for a moment. I've been beaten, punched even killed before but I don't think I've ever been slapped by a grown man as if I was some weak woman who needed putting in her place. I look at him and realise he has no fear of me whatsoever and that alarms me.

"YOU DO NOT MENTION OTHER MEN IN THIS HOUSE." He bellows at me and I recoil. "That's better. You'll learn soon enough." He mutters.

"I won't be here long enough to learn. You say you know all about me then you know I'm the Slayer, you expect to be able to keep me here long enough to teach me anything? Don't be so stupid."

"Not feeling quite like yourself today though are you _slayer._" He hisses the word at me. "I did my research, you see, and I know that you're supergirl or however you want to think of yourself but while I've got you here I can just keep dosing you up. I can keep you so you're asleep or just so you're too disorientated to be able to fight against me. You might be the slayer normally but now you'll find those powers are useless." I gulp. I know from how I am feeling that whatever drugs he's been feeding me were clearly working because I haven't been able to fight him, hardly been able to keep my eyes open and my mind on what he was saying.

"I won't drink it." I state. I'd rather die of thirst than ever drink something I knew would make me feel like this. He laughs again, oh how I hate that laugh.

"You will, eventually. Once you see how pointless it is to fight me you will. Until that moment though I can inject you with it- it will do the same job." I try to swallow the lump that's rising in my throat as I look at his face and confirm that he is completely serious.

"You do that then. You'll never keep me here. I have friends, people waiting out there for me, I'll be missed. You haven't picked up some kid off the streets who can disappear without anyone batting an eyelid. I matter to people." I shout. I realise how self-centred I sound but I don't care any more. I want him to panic, to realise what he's doing and let me go now.

"Maybe once you did but now you've pushed them all away. You're gone all night and barely home during they day, would they even realise you're missing? And when they do would they care? Probably not. They'd probably be relieved more than anything to have you taken off their hands. I've heard them talking Buffy-Anne and they're so tired of you and your broken heart, your wild ways and your disrespect for everything they try to do. Sure, they'll act like they're looking for you but I bet it won't be long before they give up and move on. Nobody wants you anymore, nobody loves you but me."I feel wave after wave of sadness crash into me as I listen to his words and know that there is so much truth behind them. As I try to fight back my tears he leans forward to try to kiss me. I watch him approach as if in slow motion and I do the only thing left in my power to do. I spit in his face.

"Stay away from me." I snap. He grabs my face roughly and I feel his fingernails digging into my cheeks as his lips crash onto mine. Unwanted and repulsive. I try to pull myself backwards to escape him but there is nowhere to go. His lips crush mine, bruise them as his tongue delves into my mouth and I gag. He pulls away looking smug.

"You have no idea what I'm capable of." He whispers. I shudder at the thought. "Now, will you have a little drink?" He moves away and pulls out an amber-coloured liquid. It smells of whisky but I know what it contains.

"Never." I swear to myself. I will never consent to this.

"Have it your way." He shrugs and retrieves a needle from somewhere outside of my vision. I begin to struggle as he comes towards me. I know that it's pointless but I can't give in, I can't let this happen to me. Eventually I feel the dull ache as the needle goes into my arm and the effects are almost instantaneous. The waves of sleep begin to fall upon me and pull me under and I struggle with all my might to resist it, to fight it.

"He will come for me." I whisper to myself as I feel the drugs take me away. The one last hope I didn't even realise I was counting on. The one I thought I'd lost faith in suddenly falls from my lips. "He will come."


	4. Too Little, Too Late

A Nice Attempt At Making Him Jealous

The phone is ringing and I am ignoring it on principle. I'm not Angel's bloody lapdog and I may be corporeal now but that doesn't mean I'm going to spend my day rushing to his beck and call and certainly doesn't mean I'm going to chirp "Angel Investigations" down the phone like some under-paid secretary. It's bad enough that I have to work with him every day let alone acting like I work for him. Every day that I'm forced to spend time with that great pouf when we're beating the hell out of some demon I question why on earth I'm putting myself through the torture of spending each day with someone I can't stand. Then I remember that I have nowhere else to go. Doing what's best for her has turned out to be the hardest thing I've ever done and loving her and living without her give me a bit, only a small bit mind you, more sympathy for the ever-brooding on, doing the right thing can make you amazingly miserable. Spending every day without her and knowing that I'm the one choosing this is the worst form of torture I've ever experienced and trust me I've experienced some pretty horrific torture in my time. That old saying _'if you love someone, let them go'_ has been my fucking mantra and I have to reapeat it about a dozen times a day to stop myself from grabbing the nearest car and driving as fast as I can to get to be by her side. I don't even know where she is any more and it takes all my strength to stop myself from asking Angel to tell me everything whenever he comes off the phone with that smug expression plastered over his annoying face. I have to let her have a chance at the happy life she could never have with me.

"Is somebody going to get that bloody phone?" I snap loudly at anyone in the surrounding area. They roll their eyes at me and scurry towards the office, all too used to my outbursts to pay me any more attention than that. I hear Harmony squeak "Angel Investigations" down the phone and I exhale some unnecessary air in relief. Hopefully someone is reporting something that needs my immediate attention and lots of violence to get rid of it. I could do with a good fight, it's about the only thing that stops me going completely mental being stuck here.

"Urm.. Spike?" Harmony bleats nervously as she walks back towards me.

"What do you want Harm?" I look at her with contempt. She still reminds me of Sunnydale, of the past, of her.

"Well, urm, Willow is on the phone." She proceeds delicately and I feel something inside me contract painfully.

"Get Angel then and if he's not here tell her to bloody well call back when he is." I ball my fists up and try to resist the urge to hit something. She should know by now that I don't, that I can't, deal with anything Scooby-related any more. I can't hear them talk about her, I can't have the conversation I've been dreading since I found myself back here.

"But the thing is, y'see, she's asking for you Spike. She was very clear only you would do." I look at her hard. If I didn't know that both her and the great pouf lack anything resembling a sense of humour I'd think she was messing with me but the look of worry on her face as she awaits my reaction confirms she's not joking.

"What does she want?" If my heart was still beating it would stop as I wait for this answer.

"It's about Buffy." She practically whispered. Shit.

"Oh shit. Oh bugger. I can't do this yet," I mutter as I stumble to my feet and starting pacing, looking wildly about the room.

"Spike!" Harmony yells. "Stop being such a damn baby and go and answer the phone!" The shock of those words and that tone of voice coming from Harmony is the only thing that could have stopped me in my tracks. She has a hard expression on her face like I've never seen before. "If I have to drag you across this room I will." She mutters without any trace of her usual silliness or giggling.

"Fine. Fine. I'm going." I announce as I march across the room.

I get to the office and close the door behind me then stare at the phone as if it's some bomb I have to diffuse. _This is stupid! _I yell at myself _get a bloody grip man._ Shakily I pick up the phone and place it to my ear.

"Hey Red," I hear myself say in what I hope is a decent attempt at my usual casual tone and doesn't give away the major internal battle that I've had just to get me here. "What can I do for you?"

"Spike, hi." The witch sounds nervous and this puts me even more on edge. "How're you doing it's been-"

"Cut the crap Willow." I snap. "Why are you calling? I doubt it's just to check up on me." I hear her take a deep breath and I find myself leaning on the table for support, wondering what on earth is to come.

"We were just wondering if you'd seen Buffy." She blurts out quickly.

"Buffy?" My head spins. "Why the hell would I have seen Buffy? What the hell's going on?"

"Buffy's missing." She sighs heavily. "She's been gone for over a week now and we thought that maybe she's come to see you." She trailed off.

"Missing? What do you mean missing? Has something captured her, what nasty was she fighting? I haven't heard anything about a vamp claiming to have the Slayer but I can-"

"Spike slow down." She cuts me off. "She wasn't fighting anything. Well, nothing serious anyway she left that to the rest of us." I'm surprised to hear a note of bitterness in her voice. "The last place we know she was is The Talbot-"

"The where?" I cut in.

"It's a bar near where we live." She replies shortly.

"A bar… Demon bar? Was she there getting info?"

"No just your regular people bar Spike." She insists.

"Well what was she doing there?" I ask her in confusion, nothing is adding up here.

"Drinking, probably."

"Drinking? Buffy doesn't drink. Well not unless it's with…" I trail off, unable to overcome the large lump in my throat.

"With you, yeah. I think the problem was that she knew she wasn't going to drink with you ever again." I sway slightly and sit heavily into the chair behind me like some trauma patient.

"I think you need to tell me what the hell's going on." I start calmly. "Why Buffy's been gone for over a week and you're only just raising the alarm, why she's been in bars drinking and no one is stopping her-"

"Don't you dare! Don't you dare say those things to me." I recoil as she shouts down the phone at me. "You don't know what it's been like since you've been back. It's been worse that when she came back from Heaven. She's changed Spike. You had no right to leave her the way you did. I've never been your biggest fan but I've put up with you all these years because Buffy said so. If you'd come back I would have welcomed you with open arms after seeing how crushed she was by your death but now, well, if I didn't think you might be able to help me find Buffy I'd stake you on sight for what you've done to her."

"Done to her? I haven't done anything to her you stupid bint!" I spit angrily.

"Exactly!" Willow counters with equal anger. "I don't know what the heck happened between you two in that battle but you said something that broke Buffy's heart and then you just left her like every other man she's ever known-"

"She told me she loved me." I mutter in a small voice.

"And?" Willow demands.

"And I told her that I didn't believe her and then I died then I was brought back and I decided to let her get one with her life so she didn't feel that she had to honour some stupid words she'd said out of pity for a dying man. I let her have a chance to get the happiness she's always deserved. I love her so I let her go. The sodding end. Now can you please explain what the hell this has to do with where she is and how I can bloody get her out of there?"

"Spike, you're a complete idiot. In fact you're more than that. You're the worst kind of stupid I've ever met in my life and you don't deserve to be told this, and trust me I am not telling you to make you feel good, but Buffy loves you. Everyone but you and Buffy have known for a long time and now she knows too. The problem is, though, you abandoned her and so now she knows she love you but she's trying not to love you and she misses you but she's trying not to miss you so she's going out and getting blind drunk and sleeping with any man she can find to take her mind off you. Which has somehow led to her disappearance." I feel a wave of cold sweep over me as she finishes talking and I turn suddenly, kick back the chair and let out a yell of rage as I put my fist through the glass panel of the door. "Spike!" Willow shouts, trying to gain my attention before I upturn the whole office.

"Where are you?" I ask through gritted teeth as my hands shake.

"London." She replies simply.

"England?" I can't comprehend what she's saying to me.

"Yes. Do you want me to book you a ticket?"

"No, it's fine. I'm sure Angel has a private jet or something I can borrow."

"Okay, I'll see you soon." I go to put the phone down and hear her add "And don't do anything stupid, all right?" I laugh loudly. A bit late for that now.

_A/N: This part has been really hard for me to write because I find Spike's actions in Angel (the series) very OOC and therefore hard to justify so please let me know if it worked or not. Thanks! _


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